


The Choices You Make, The Promises You Keep

by gaialux



Category: Grease (1978)
Genre: Coming Out, First Time, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years ago they made a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle, using the prompts: friends, lovers, kiss, cool, car, secret, wish, coming out?, couple, hands, smile, flirt, jacket. Non-explicit sexual content between characters aged 14 and 16 in flashbacks. Also underage drinking and smoking. Lots of smoking.

After graduation, Danny makes his way to Kenickie's house. He's not all that drunk, really, just a few glasses of champagne with Sandy and her family. That was only after Sandy had changed out of the leather and into a dress, uncurled her hair and set it with a ribbon. He's still wearing the varsity jacket, but it feels too tight.

"Hey, Kenickie!" He beats on the garage door louder than is probably needed, and is met with Kenickie pulling open the side door and telling him to shut up. Danny grins and walks over to sling an arm around Kenickie's waist. Kenickie pulls back and runs a comb through his hair.

"What're you doing here?" Kenickie asks — hisses.

Danny would have thought that was fairly obvious. It happened often enough. "Came to see you."

"Why aren't you with Sandy?" 

Danny might be a little — or a lot — tipsy, but he picks up on the scorn in Kenickie's voice. "I was," Danny says. "Why aren't you with Rizz?"

"I was." Kenickie doesn't meet Danny's eye.

Danny can't think of a response to that, so he keeps going with the original track of thought. "We got plans."

Kenickie looks at him, quirks an eyebrow. "We do?"

"Yep." Danny pats around on his jacket, trying to find a cigarette. It has no pockets, of course, and he remembers shoving one crushed-up packet into the pocket of his jeans.  He pulls one out and lights it up, proud of himself that no fingers were burnt in the process. Though he does drop his zippo and stumble when trying to pick it up. When he stands straight again Kenickie still has one eyebrow in the air.

"You gonna elaborate or is this twenty questions?" Kenickie asks. He leans against the brickwork of the house, trying to paint a picture of nonchalance that Danny can see right through. Kenickie's always been a glass panel to him.

Blowing smoke right into Kenickie's face, Danny smirks. Or tries to smirk. The fact Kenickie doesn't remember is making that hard. "Freshman year." He hopes the prompt will do something, but Kenickie's face looks as blank as ever. "Locker rooms."

That does something, passes a flash of recognition through Kenickie's eyes. Danny nods slowly and pulls the cigarette from his lips.

"Thought you forgot about that," Kenickie says. His voice is oddly gruff.

He flicks ash onto the pavement and watches the clean grey become speckled with black and white. "No way."

 

* * *

Danny had taken gym for a single semester back when he started at Rydell. Back before he decided to take control on all aspects of his life and stick with cars because sporting ventures would never give him anything he wanted. Gym was the first class he met Kenickie in, the guy who wore a leather jacket when playing basketball and had been kept down two years in a row, soon to make it three.

It took Danny a few weeks of hanging around with nerds and losers before he decided to go up to Kenickie. Kenickie had seemed grateful, maybe, or at least that's what emotion Danny decided to pick up on. They ditched class and wandered back into the locker rooms after Coach Calhoun sent Mike out to find truants. Nobody ever thinks to look in the logical places. Kenickie offers him a smoke, Danny accepts, and they talk about cars. How Kenickie is going to buy one and soup it up, how Danny's parents promised him one for his sixteenth birthday.

"Don't have parents," Kenickie says. He looks contemplative. "I guess I do, but I haven't seen them in years." 

Kenickie's sixteen years old, lives with his aunt, and wants to drag race for a living for no other reason than "It'd be sweet."

Danny likes him immediately. He also likes how Kenickie's eyes light up when he's talking cars, how he grins when Danny can actually understand jargon and lingo of motors and exhaust, and the way Kenickie rolls a cigarette around his mouth with his teeth. He stubs it out after a while, lies back on one of the steel benches.

"Where you from, Zuko?"

"Rydell Elementary," Danny tries. He's not so sure what Kenickie's asking.

"You always lived in Laguna?"

Danny nods, realises Kenickie can't see him. "Uh, yeah."

Even now Danny doesn't know how things went from  _that_ to Kenickie sitting back up, grasping the collar of Danny's shirt, and dragging their mouths together. Danny might have kissed girls before. He might have kissed a  _lot_ of girls before. But this? Completely new. And Danny's pulling back with eyes wide while Kenickie's hand twists tighter in his shirt.

"Come on," he's saying. Danny wants to hear more of his voice like that, all rough and gruff and moving to stir in his stomach. "Danny? Danny. Come on."

 

* * *

 

Kenickie kept Greased Lightning in her bruised and battered state, steel peeking through white paint and hood popped, suspension shot. Danny gets in and sees Kenickie watching. The interior is fine, soft leather and a crushed cigarette packet. He picks it up and throws it at Kenickie through the window. He's sobering up; aims well enough to hit Kenickie's shoulder and laughs before slumping back in the passenger seat.

Just as he thought, Kenickie gets in the other side a few moments later. He shuts the door — with some considerable effort, that one was pretty destroyed — and leans back with closed eyes. For a little while Danny just looks at him on an angle that he hopes isn't too obvious, but he knows Kenickie picks up on it when one eyelid cracks open.

"What?" Kenickie asks. Danny shakes his head and runs his hands over the steering wheel.  _Donated_ , Sonny had said. Danny's waiting for someone to come searching for all the  _donated_ pieces. "No, really, what?"

"Nothing." Danny smiles.

Kenickie gets out of the car and Danny strains to see what he's doing. He gets it when the sound of the garage door hitting the cement flooring echoes through the car and Kenickie comes back.

"Margaret's home," he says. "But the door's locked..."

The smile on Danny's face widens and it feels like a weight has been ripped from his chest. Since the whole Rizzo situation — _she's_ pregnant _, Danny. I_ — _I dunno what to do —_  and Danny having to stay stoic, face hard and words blunt when inside he's having a hard time breathing and having any logic thoughts beyond  _you promised_ but he can't say that outloud, can't come across as a fag or a chick.

Only after Kenickie reaches out and pushes back Danny's jacket from his shoulders does Danny let himself relax enough to close the space between them, kisses Kenickie and gets kissed in return. Too much tongue, a clashing of teeth, and Kenickie's hands wrestling him into the backseat where Danny slams his head on the door but really doesn't care.

"What're you wearing that thing for?" Kenickie asks as he pulls Danny's hands free and throws the white jacket back into the front.

"I lettered in track." Danny grins and Kenickie makes a face. Danny pulls Kenickie's mouth back to his.

There's never enough time, he gets that. When all this is over Danny will go home and Kenickie will go find a woman — Rizzo now, he guesses, maybe that'll be a long-term thing — and Kenickie  _doesn't_ remember freshman year, no matter what he said just before.

 

* * *

 

The first time he goes to Kenickie's house is three weeks later during Christmas vacation. His aunt is out of town, he says, and at that point Danny doesn't  _get_ what that means because he was a dumb kid and Kenickie never liked to elaborate on anything he said. They watched everything possible on television and ate [], talking more about cars. Then Kenickie started on chicks and Danny tried, really, but at that point they were three weeks in and he was having a hard time thinking about necking with anyone who wasn'tKenickie.

It didn't last long. Kenickie smiled, reached across and tugged Danny closer with a hand behind his neck. Danny went easily, happily, and soon can't even hear more than the wet sounds of making out and a faint noise of gunfire and bombs from the old war flick on the television. Kenickie's mouth goes to his neck, discards Danny's jacket — leather, bought the same weekend he said fuck you to gym class — and makes short work of the white t-shirt underneath.

Danny's still slow, doesn't catch on, and it's only after Kenickie's mouth is seriously close to the waistband of his jeans. Then oh— _Oh_. Things start to make more sense.

 

* * *

 

Danny hesitates. Always hesitates. If he doesn't, then it's Kenickie's turn. Always with the hesitations, the silent quetioning, the minds ticking over and trying to decide if this is all worth it. Until Danny's too busy trapped in his thoughts of hesitation that Kenickie's already worked his belt out of it's loops and is tugging Danny's jeans down.

They're actually at his knees before enough sense comes to his head to say something. "Your aunt's home!"

"Behind a locked door." Kenickie's mouth is open at the inside of Danny's thigh. "On the other side of the house." He moves up further and a finger slips under the waistband of Danny's boxers. "And she's practically deaf."

"But not blind." Not with the coke-bottle glasses Danny swears she wears as magnifying glasses.

Kenickie's hands pause, quick enough for Danny to notice, before one rises to squeeze Danny's arm. "Its okay," Kenickie says. "No one's gonna see."

 _No one's gonna see_. Yeah, Kenickie definitely doesn't remember anything.

 

* * *

 

They'd ended up back in gym class after Calhoun threatened to have them failed and McGee had said that meant they'd be repeating freshman year. Kenickie didn't care because it was all old song and dance for him, but he came back to class anyway. Danny had thought it was for him, and that opinion hadn't really strayed now that Danny thinks about it. Only he'd never, ever, in a million years, say it out loud.

They ended up ditching by the third class in and wandering back to those same locker rooms where everything had started six months before. Though side-by-side this time and Kenickie looking at him from the start.

"You ever think you're...different?" Danny had asked without really taking into consideration the implication of asking. He was definitely a dumbass when he added, "Queer?"

He'd just been luck that Kenickie's a nice guy. "No, not really." He'd said that, then pulled Danny close and kissed him. Mixed signals if Danny'd ever seen them. "Why? Do you?"

Looking at Kenickie, Danny had known what he was supposed to say — "Nah, man. Just heard some guys talking about it s'all" — but what had come out instead was: "Yeah, I think so."

Kenickie's grip had tightened where it was twisted into Danny's shirt, but Kenickie didn't push him away. "What about Emily?" He smiled. "You were getting pretty far with her."

Sure. If 'getting pretty far' meant he took her to a dance and watched Kenickie dancing with Mary the whole night. It wasn't like Kenickie hadn't met his eye either, hadn't left Danny staring up at his ceiling the entire night trying to figure at what the fuck was wrong thing.

"What are we?" Danny asked, almost sudden and leaving his mouth before he wanted it to.

"What do you mean?" Kenickie hadn't been playing dumb. He'd actually looked confused.

"Like..." Danny had gestured his hands around, like that would somehow make an answer appear out of thin air. He hadn't known how to say it.  _Boyfriend?_ Did they use those terms for this sort of thing? "I dunno.  _Something_."

Danny couldn't tell what Kenickie's smile meant. It had turned into a smirk when he pulled Danny closer. "You want me to give you my class ring?"

"No," Danny had muttered, pushing Kenickie away.

Kenickie didn't go that easily, and Danny had seriously considered going to box with the rest of thier gym class.

"You know what?" Kenickie said quietly after a few seconds had passed. "If you think you're still—" he had cut off, paused. Danny's mind filled in the blanks:  _Queer_. "And we're still..." He'd trailed off then:  _together_. "Then I'll agree about being...yeah...after graduation, okay?"

Danny had agreed. He hadn't expected them to last.

 

* * *

 

Kenickie's flicking through the TV after they've gone inside, finally settles on _The Lone Ranger_ and sits back down to sling his legs over the arm of the couch. Danny sits on the nearby armchair with his knuckles in his mouth and one eye on Kenickie's aunt Margret who is being far from subtle about keeping one eye on him. She's never liked Danny and he can't figure out why, it's not like him and Kenickie are all that different.

"Hey." Kenickie kicks Danny's arm with his foot. "Who do you think saved more people, the Lone Ranger or Tonto?"

Danny shrugs. "I don't watch it."

Ms. Kenickie shoots him a look and he has no idea what it's supposed to mean. What the hell does she care whether he watches this or not?

Kenickie rolls his eyes. "What  _do_ you watch?"

"Not as antisocial as you, Kenick. Rather not be cooped up inside."

The look Kenickie gives him. Well, Danny's just glad Ms. Kenickie never looks at her nephew.

"Then I guess I shouldn't keep you inside."

Kenickie switches off the television set and grabs his jacket from where it's been discarded on the floor. Danny follows, back out into the sunlight that makes him wince, and he can't even see Kenickie until he's suddenly pushing him up against the house.

"What the fuck are you—"

Kenickie cuts him off with a hard push to the shoulder. "You think I don't remember?"

Danny's got no idea what to say. He's too focused on how Kenickie's face is right up near his and a car goes past. Danny swears it slows before turning onto the next street.

"Danny," Kenickie says. His voice lowers, softens. "You still want me to say I'm gay?"

Another car comes past and this time it definitely slows. He thinks he hears something, but Kenickie doesn't even flinch. Danny tries to move but can't get past. Eventually he settles on shrugging and setting his eyes down on their shows. He feels like a stupid kid again, one that hadn't yet caught onto to what they had to do. Hide, pretend, become unfeeling lose emotion because otherwise it starts hurting too much.

"I dunno, man," Danny stumbles out. "I—"

Kenickie's hand comes to rest on his hip. There's a window _right there_. If a car doesn't find them, Ms. Kenickie will. "I did promise."

"Yeah," Danny agrees, voice tight. "You did."

 

* * *

 

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah."


	2. Promise

He's not actually sure who knows by now. Everyone seems to have disappeared, off to work or college — and Sandy's back in Australia. Rizzo and Frenchy are still around. Rizzo at least knows, because she's not a dope. She figured it out. Winks and makes herself scarce when Danny and Kenickie show up at Frosty Palace.

"I'm gonna get my own place," Kenickie says. He bites into a burger, talks with his mouth full. "Got some money saved up, have a job lined up at the garage."

"Yeah?" says Danny, who's still searching. He doesn't know what he wants.

"Place for rent nearby, two bedrooms." He swallows and catches Danny's eye.

Danny slings his arm over the back of his seat. "Really?"

Kenickie smiles. "Bona fide offer."


	3. Keep

Danny's always liked Kenickie's smile. First thing he noticed when watching Kenickie out on the basketball court. It's changed a bit now, somehow older even though he's not even that old yet. His twenty-first birthday is in three months.  
  
It's the smile that looks down at Danny when they're in bed, harsh breathe coming from between because, ever since the hesitations stopped, Kenickie's become a fucking tease. He presses down, Danny groans, and Kenicke's smile widens.  
  
"Good?" he asks.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
Kenicke leans down to kiss him. "Roll over."  
  
Danny does, sheets curling around his legs and face pushed into the pillow. Kenickie's pressed against him, chest to back, and his hand runs up Danny's arms until he finds his hand. Fingers twisted together and Kenickie's breath hot against Danny's neck.  
  
Kenickie knows what he's doing, always does, in everything. He's a fully-fledged mechanic now, comes home everyday with grease-stained overalls and a stack of papers about repair-jobs. Danny laughs at him a lot, asks if this is what he wanted. Kenicke grumbles something every single time, then ends with a, "yeah. It is."  
  
"Is this?" Danny's asking, trapped between thought and Kenickie's body against him,  _in_  him. "Everything you wanted?"  
  
His first answer is a squeeze of his fingers, a brushing of kisses behind Danny's ear. Then he says it, same words as always. Though a whole lot more choked, caught, breathy than ever before. "Yeah. It is."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for porn battle, yes. But porn does not get here until chapter three, ha.


End file.
